Leif (Viking Glory Book 1) Read online

  Leif: Viking Glory Book One Copyright © 2019 by Celeste Barclay. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Lisa Messegee, The Write Designer

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Celeste Barclay

  Visit my website at www.celestebarclay.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: Mar 2019

  Celeste Barclay

  ISBN-13 978-1-7339004-0-9

  Thank you to all my readers who continue to encourage my imagination and creativity. You make me confident enough to keep writing and sharing.

  Happy reading, y’all.

  Celeste

  Leif

  Viking Glory Book One

  Celeste Barclay

  chapter one

  Leif looked around his chambers within his father’s longhouse and breathed a sigh of relief. He noticed the large fur rugs spread throughout the chamber. His two favorites placed strategically before the fire and the bedside he preferred. He looked at his shield that hung on the wall near the door in a symbolic position but waiting at the ready. The chests that held his clothes and some of his finer acquisitions from voyages near and far sat beside his bed and along the far wall. And in the center was his most favorite possession. His oversized bed was one of the few that could accommodate his long and broad frame. He shook his head at his longing to climb under the pile of furs and on the stuffed mattress that beckoned him. He took in the chair placed before the fire where he longed to sit now with a cup of warm mead. It had been two months since he slept in his own bed, and he looked forward to nothing more than pulling the furs over his head and sleeping until he could no longer ignore his hunger. Alas, he would not be crawling into his bed again for several more hours. A feast awaited him to celebrate his and his crew’s return from their latest expedition to explore the isle of Britannia. He bathed and wore fresh clothes, so he had no excuse for lingering other than a bone weariness that set in during the last storm at sea. He was eager to spend time at home no matter how much he loved sailing. Their last expedition had been profitable with several raids of monasteries that yielded jewels and both silver and gold, but he was ready for respite.

  Leif left his chambers and knocked on the door next to his. He heard movement on the other side, but it was only moments before his sister, Freya, opened her door. She, too, looked tired but clean. A few pieces of jewelry she confiscated from the holy houses that allegedly swore to a life of poverty and deprivation adorned her trim frame.

  “That armband suits you well. It compliments your muscles,” Leif smirked and dodged a strike from one of those muscular arms.

  Only a year younger than he, his sister was a well-known and feared shield maiden. Her lithe form was strong and agile making her a ferocious and competent opponent to any man. Freya’s beauty was stunning, but Leif had taken every opportunity since they were children to tease her about her unusual strength even among the female warriors.

  “At least one of us inherited our father’s prowess. Such a shame it wasn’t you.”

  Leif laughed as he wrapped his arm around his sister’s shoulder and escorted her outside. Once they stepped beyond the door, he dropped his arm before she could shrug it off. He was close to his sister, and he counted her as his closest confident besides their cousin, Bjorn, but he knew of how self-conscious she was about proving herself to everyone in their village. As the daughter of the jarl, her tribe expected her to make a good wife to another jarl, but they also expected her to defend her people. Freya and Leif were their parents’ only surviving children. She strove to be the best inside and outside of the longhouse. Freya worked twice as hard as most so she could master the skills of running a household while also mastering the skills of a fighter. She did not like to look as though her father or brother coddled her even though she adored their protectiveness as much as their confidence in her.

  “Are you looking forward to the feast?” Freya asked.

  “I am looking forward to my bed more.”

  “And who will warm it tonight? Who will catch your eye?”

  “Actually, tonight I would prefer to retire alone. I crave sleep more than I crave a woman.”

  “That would be a first,” Freya snorted.

  “Who do you have your eye on?”

  “I, too, look forward to sleeping alone. But nobody expects anything different from me.”

  “You’re just more discreet.”

  “I just have fewer options.”

  Leif shrugged knowing that was the truth. Few men attempted to look at his sister let alone touch her. There had been a few, but Freya saw the wisdom in keeping her attachments short and uncomplicated for one day she would leave to make her home among another village with another jarl. She understood no husband would want a wife who was too knowledgeable about bed sport. For a bride in a political match, there was a stark difference between knowing enough to satisfy her new husband and knowing enough to make him suspicious of her fidelity and loyalty. Leif counted himself lucky in that area since people only expected him to enjoy himself before and after his marriage.

  Freya entered the great hall ahead of Leif and moved to her spot at the head table, sitting next to their mother. Leif looked around and waved to several men who hailed him and attempted to place a mead horn into his hand. He drank sparingly as always. It was a rare occasion now he let himself get so intoxicated that he was not in complete control of his faculties. He learned how dangerous that was as a young man. Too much alcohol led him to bed the wrong woman whose husband did not like to share, and he came close to losing his life for a night he could not even remember.

  Leif sat to his father’s right with his mother and sister to his father’s left. His cousin, Bjorn, already sat to his right.

  “You came.” Bjorn observed.

  “You know like I do, none of us could miss this. Look at the men. They are enjoying the feast and revelry. We couldn’t disappoint everyone by not appearing.”

  “I don’t know how they cannot crave peace and quiet as much as we do after such a long time spent together.”

  “I am beginning to think you, Freya, and I are the strange ones.”

  “Perhaps. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still want to retire early with a willing woman and then lose myself to sleep for a full moon.”

  “If that’s the case, no one will fault you for retiring early. You know neither Freya nor I will leave with someone, so we’re stuck here until the end. Even after Mother and Father retire.”

  Leif sighed and forced himself not to swipe his hand across his face. He looked around the crowded hall and envied the others their merriment and light heartedness. The voyage was a financial success but with more setbacks than usual. Weather delayed them in both directions and fighting with another band of Norsemen had cost them many men before they even landed in Scotland. Responsibility of captaining the ships lay at the hands of Leif, Bjorn, Freya, and their two other closest friends Tyra and Strian. The five warriors grew up together in the Trondelag and captained their ships after being sent off on expeditions without their fathers. Tyra was the daughter of his father’s cousin, and Strian was the son of his father’s previous warrior captain.

  Leif looked around and found Tyra
and Strian sitting with their families at the table closest to the jarl’s. They looked as exhausted as he did, but they both seemed to enjoy the festivities. They had the responsibility of their own ships and men, but the overall expedition rested on his shoulders and he only shared the burden with Freya and Bjorn.

  “You need a woman between your sheets and between your legs.”

  “That may well be, but I need sleep far more.”

  “Old man. You must work out your cock to keep it in shape or it’ll shrivel up like an old man’s sword arm.”

  “If that were the case, your cock should be the strongest in the village. Yet that isn’t what I hear from many of the women.”

  Leif laughed as Bjorn looked ready to smash in his teeth.

  “Perhaps they only say that to make you feel better.”

  Leif laughed even harder, but it was cut short when the door to the hall swung open and a contingency of warriors, who did not belong to his father, strode in. Leif recognized Rangvald Thorsson as the bear of a man who led the pack. They approached, and his father stood when their unexpected guests arrived at the head table.

  “What brings you here, Rangvald? It’s good to see you, old friend, but we were not expecting you,” boomed Ivar Sorenson.

  Leif glanced at his father to see if he might determine his real reaction to the neighboring jarl’s arrival. His father seemed relaxed for once, unlike his usual tense and wary disposition.

  “Would that I brought good news and a desire to make merry as I see your people are now.”

  Leif noticed the blood splatter and mud that crusted Rangvald’s boots and the bottom of his leather trousers.

  Ivar nodded and laid his hand on Leif’s shoulder.

  “Perhaps we should retire to my chambers for this conversation.”

  Leif rose to follow his father along with Bjorn. His father shook his head as Freya moved to join them. Anger then resignation flashed in her eyes.

  “It’s not like that, Daughter. I need you to watch his men. See how they behave, their mood and report back. They won’t suspect anything if it’s you who mingles rather than your brother.” Ivar murmured for only their ears.

  Freya nodded and looked mollified even if Leif knew she was still not pleased about being excluded. He looked over his shoulder to see his sister move towards the men with a mead pitcher. Her graceful movements and beauty caught their attention, and Leif wanted to stay behind to protect her.

  “Strian will watch her,” Bjorn reminded him.

  Ensconced in his father’s war room, the men wasted no time in discussing Rangvald’s arrival.

  “Hakin Hakinsson has been testing our borders again. We caught some of his men on both your land and mine. They’ve been menacing the shepherds and stealing livestock. It’s more than just a war band attempting to harass us. He means to invade our lands. His reach does not match his ambition, but he thinks it does. Hakin would end the truce and take his chances against both of us. He believes we will not seek one another’s support.”

  “He believes the old rumors we harbor rancor for one another after I didn’t marry your sister.” It was a statement not a question. It was well-known in the Trondelag that Ivar’s father betrothed him to Rangvald’s sister, Inga, from childhood. They even attempted a trial marriage but were ill suited to each other, and Ivar was already in love with Leif’s mother, Lena. Inga, tired of living as a second-place choice, returned home within a moon. Rumors spread that Rangvald held a grudge, but it was not the case. Rangvald had tried to convince his father not to send Inga as Lena was no secret to anyone. However, Rangvald and Ivar allowed the rumors to continue as it served a purpose. It allowed them to each collect information from other jarls and villages that others would not share if it was common knowledge they were allies.

  Now, Ivar looked at Rangvald and stroked his beard, twirling the beaded ends between his fingers. He studied the man and took in the same blood and mud that Leif noticed.

  “You would have us make our alliance public.”

  “I see no other way. If we fight on our own, we waste time and resources. Hakin won’t fight on two fronts. He will attack one of us and then move to the other. We have a choice. We can either meet him as a unified army or one of us faces him head on while the other attacks from the rear, trapping them in the middle. Either way, we won’t fare well if we try to go it alone. We can win, of that I am sure, but losing men and resources is unnecessary if we fight together.”

  “I would have to say I agree. How many men can you bring? I have about two hundred here I can send and still keep a hundred to protect the village.”

  “I have the same.”

  “And Hakin?”

  “He would match us. He didn’t leave as many men at home.”

  “Father, why not lead Hakin to our land, but rather than meet him, we go to his home and attack there? We wipe out his home, his food stores, his people, and then he won’t have the means to fight us. We then trap him between our armies. Without a place to retreat and no means to move forward, we can end this once and for all.”

  “And what of our people? Do they face him while we make our way to his home? Why not go to his home after we defeat him?”

  “Evacuate our people and lead him to an isolated area. We cannot guarantee how many men we’ll have after the battle. We use our full force now to leave nothing for him to return to in case he is victorious.”

  Ivar and Rangvald exchanged a look before Ivar nodded his head.

  “And just where would you have us lead him?”

  “We push him back into the mountain pass near Stjordal. We can trap him there.”

  Rangvald held up his hand to interrupt father and son as they negotiated.

  “Your son is right. If he travels further south than Stjordal, he will reach our main settlements in Maere and Egge. We would do well to stop him now. If we send men with longboats north, we can attack his home while he is away. Then those men will attack from the rear.”

  “And whose men would that be?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No. But we can load the fresh supplies here into our boats. You don’t have many, I am sure, after your journey here. I will send Leif with the others to Steinkjer, and once the settlement is nothing but ash, he will meet us near Stjordal. How long do you think we have?”

  “A week maybe. That would be at the most. I don’t believe he knows I sailed here. I must return to my home and prepare my people.”

  “Leif returned only this morning. Their boats need repairing tonight and into the early morning. The men need a night’s sleep rather than a night of feasting. I don’t look forward to disappointing them, but there is no other choice if they’re to prepare for sailing in the morning.” Ivar looked at his son and nephew. “Gather Freya, Strian, and Tyra. We must plan.”

  Ivar and Rangvald moved back to the main hall to announce the change in plans while Leif and Bjorn signaled for the others to join them. Leif watched as Bjorn’s face grew red and a scowl deeper than usual settled between his brows. Leif followed Bjorn’s gaze but could find nothing unusual. Freya and Tyra were among Rangvald’s men. Freya stood behind one as she poured mead, and Tyra sat on one man’s lap and seemed to be listening intently to his tale.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Where is Strian? He’s supposed to be watching Tyra and Freya?”

  “He is. Look to the left of the room. He is watching them and everything that goes on around them.”

  “But he isn’t close enough if one of those men decides he’d like to explore.”

  “Bjorn, no man would touch Freya. Everyone knows she is the jarl’s daughter, and I doubt any man is foolish enough to think they could take from Tyra anything she doesn’t offer. She’s likely to cut off their hand before asking questions.”

  Bjorn grunted, but his face relaxed. Leif signaled for the other three to join him and Bjorn. They moved back into the jarl’s war room to discuss the new developments.

 
“What did you learn?” Leif asked his sister.

  “Hakin is making moves towards the border of our lands. He’s already been spotted stealing livestock. He’s even set a few fields ablaze after stealing from the harvest.”

  “Rangvald’s men are eager for the fight. Their blood is up, and they believe they can already smell victory.” Tyra added.

  Bjorn worked his jaw and forced himself not to snap at Tyra’s recklessness if she knew the men were already excitable. Tyra’s parents died in a fire when the group was still young. He, Leif, and Strian had sworn a blood oath to protect her as though she was their own sister. She lived with an aunt and uncle along with their children, but Bjorn still felt compelled to keep a close eye on her.

  “They are eager to fight and believe this should be an easy win,” Tyra continued.

  “It is a foolish man who goes into battle assuming he will win,” Strian commented. “Those aren’t the men I want to depend upon.”

  “I agree, but the alliance stands, and it will serve us well. Father has agreed that we should attack Hakin’s holding while he is away. Burn it to the ground if we can. Then we join Rangvald but from the rear. We will trap Hakin between our armies near Stjordal,” Leif explained.

  “You would push him inland away from his boats, and ours, and then box him into one of the mountain passes.” Freya nodded her head. “We must sail to Steinkjer if this is the goal. I assume we will leave in the morning. If time wasn’t a concern, Rangvald wouldn’t have come. He would have sent a messenger instead. He came in person to convey the urgency.”

  “You’re right. He believes there’s less than a week until Hakin will be close enough to engage. We need to evacuate our people to the coast in case Hakin breaks free, but we’ll leave a hundred men behind and two long boats in case they must escape. We sail at first light,” Bjorn shared.

  “Will our boats be ready in time? Mine took serious damage during the last storm. The entire hull needs refitting but there are several patches needed at least.” Strian looked doubtful.